


Can I Keep Him?

by Therapeutic_Steter



Series: Prompt Fics [13]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Multi, Red Panda Stiles, Stetopher Week 2017, Werecreature Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 19:32:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12539524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Therapeutic_Steter/pseuds/Therapeutic_Steter
Summary: whycantibeawinchester asked: Noooo I finished all your fics! Love Steter! How are you with Stetopher? If it's not yo thang, no pressure. Let's try... Red Panda stiles? looove red panda stiles!





	Can I Keep Him?

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I wouldn’t normally write anything other than Steter on here. But because it’s Stetopher Week and it’s still Steter just with added Chris, I’ll give it to you. But just this once! ;) [But please be gentle because I’ve never written poly before.]
> 
> Red Panda Stiles + the Stetopher Week Prompt: Hunters/Monsters (10/30/17). It’s go time.

Stiles was going to kill them.

He pounced through the brush, hearing the odd monster snorting as it chased him, and trying to not think about how long his tail was, how nearer to it that it made him.

If there was ever a time he hated his full shift, it would be when a much scarier monster was chasing him. Stiles would’ve utilized his go-to method of running away—namely, climbing as high as panda-ly possible—but the odd lizard-ferret looking creature that was following him seemed just as proficient in climbing and the last thing he needed was to be up a tree with no place to go.

Stiles tried to cry out, though it came out more as a squealing whistle, shrill but not that loud. Cute, really, which was just perfect. He was going to be adorable even in death.

Who even thought it was a good idea to let him go exploring in the Preserve on his own again? Especially considering that, supernaturally, it had been quiet lately. Suspiciously quiet. Stiles didn’t trust it and now he knew why.

Stiles squeaked again, his pathetic voice chords squeaking and twittering before cutting off with a whine. His fur was high on his neck, the sounds of his pursuer getting closer, and he probably would’ve been crying if he had been human.

Stiles made one last desperate leap, breaking out of the brush and into the clearing with the newly renovated Hale house. He twittered again, scrambling in fear when the creature leapt onto his back and fought him onto his back. Stiles’ heart was beating way too fast and he lashed out with his claws, scratching at the lizard-ferret. He was making a horrible ruckus, hoping someone would get there in time.

“Stiles!”

A roar followed the worried shout and the lizard-ferret thing went scrambling back into the woods as Peter came rushing forward in wolf form. The wolf’s eyes were blazing blue as he chased it into the woods. Chris stopped before entering the brush, gun at his side, and Stiles scrambled back onto his feet before climbing up the man’s leg and curling around his neck.

Stiles made a whistling whine, pressing close. Chris reached up to pet his fur, holding him steady, and they both eyed the woods for a moment before the man carried him back towards the house.

Stiles shifted once they got inside, grabbing some clothes before curling up in Chris’ lap.

“What was that?” Derek asked from across the table, looking almost concerned with his furrowed brows.

“Ferret lizard. Lerret? Fizard? Creepy McScary?” Stiles answered, pressing closer to Chris, nuzzling under his chin. “Who cares because it wanted to eat me! Stiles is not for eating!”

Chris hummed, running his hand down Stiles’ back and reaching into his pocket to reveal a packet of apple slices. Stiles could’ve purred, accepting the fruit and nibbling on one.

Peter returned moments later, shifting back and getting dressed in the clothes he’d quickly shed at the sound of Stiles’ distress. He sat next to Chris and Stiles, nuzzling against the nape of the boy’s neck and nipping lightly. Stiles reached over and kissed him, lips wet with apple juice.

“Did you catch it?” he asked, although the lack of blood staining the wolf’s hands hinted otherwise. He licked his lips and Peter’s eyes watched his tongue.

“It’s a slippery thing. Climber too,” Peter answered. “I couldn’t follow its scent because its scent is everywhere.”

Chris frowned, still massaging Stiles’ back lightly. “Everywhere? How could it spread its scent that widely without one of you noticing?”

The two men turned their attention to the other wolves, faces unimpressed. Stiles sighed, chomping on the last apple slice. He looked down at his hands with a frown. Before he could say anything though, Peter procured a wipe from a travel pack of wet wipes, offering it to the boy. Stiles grinned, wiping the sticky off his fingers before curling up against Chris’ chest. “Going to have to hit the books,” Stiles said with a resigned sigh.

“I’ll call my contacts,” Chris said, pressing a kiss to Stiles’ temple before shuffling the boy over into Peter’s lap and standing with his cellphone. Stiles pouted at being moved but accepted the extra warmth of the werewolf.

“Are you okay?” Allison asked, sounding concerned.

“Yeah,” Stiles answered.

“What can you tell us about the creature?” Lydia asked, notepad in her lap.

“It was long and furred, like a ferret kind of. But it was green. And it kept snorting; I think it had like a snout or something. And it was fast. And climbed.”

“Hm…” Lydia considered that.

“And it was trying to eat me,” Stiles accused, unhappily.

“Mustelidae prey on red pandas,” Lydia informed him. “If it really is part ferret, it might not have been chasing you because you’re a shifter but instead because you were prey.”

“Thanks, that makes me feel so much better,” Stiles grumbled.

“Oh, shut up and eat a pear,” Lydia waved him off. Stiles stuck his tongue at her and Allison laughed.

“We’ve got to do something,” Derek demanded.

“And what do you suggest, nephew?” Peter drawled.

“We need to find out where it’s hiding.”

Peter waved to the door. “Then please, by all means, go try and track it.”

“We don’t even know what it wants yet. There hasn’t been any reported missing people,” Scott argued.

“He didn’t say we kill it, just that we find it,” Erica pipped in, rolling her eyes.

“A ramidreju.”

They all turned to Chris as he returned, putting his phone into his pocket.

“A what?” Allison asked.

“Ramidreju,” Chris repeated. “It’s a weasel creature from Cantabria. They’re prized because their fur is believed to have amazing healing powers. They’re not usually dangerous, but they can be little thieves because of their penchant for gold and other shiny things.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Some rogue hunters are chasing this one down, probably for its fur. It’s probably tired and just thought Stiles would be a quick energy-boosting snack before it kept running.”

“Damn. I feel bad for the poor thing now,” Stiles said. “How’d you do that?”

“Well we’ve got to help it,” Scott put in.

“How can we stop the rogues?” Allison asked, sitting up straight and at attention.

“I don’t know how extreme they are yet. I think I’ll try to reach out with them, maybe reason with them, without any pack involvement at first.”

“This is going to get messy,” Peter predicted.

…

Stiles hated when Peter was right.

So, meeting with the rogues without pack involvement? Did not go well.

Stiles had barely avoided a shot full of wolfbane and was currently curled protectively on top of the ramidreju. It was whining almost as pathetically as Stiles had been at their last meeting, which was helping his self-confidence a little. Stiles had a feeling it still wanted to eat him, but so far it was happy to curl up under his body and let him shield it.

“Any day now,” Stiles gritted out, wincing when another gunshot went off over his head. He finally said ‘fuck it’ and scooped the ramidreju up, rushing for the trees.

The weasel climbed up his chest, curling around his neck much like Stiles liked to do to Peter and Chris whenever he was shifted. It was probably the only reason he managed to avoid the hunter’s knife that slashed at his face as soon as he broke the tree line.

“Holy—”

Sitles jerked back, his feet fumbling when the hunter kicked at his ankle. Stiles gritted his teeth, whirling onto his hands and kicking out solidly at the other man’s chest. The hunter’s breath wheezed out of him as he fell back, hitting the truck of a treat solidly. The weasel around his neck whined, the sound high and loud in Stiles’ ears.

Stiles scrambled back when another hunter thought to join the one already targeting him. They looked like crazed men from a horror movie, stalking closer with machetes in their hands and malice in their eyes.

Stiles noted the lack of guns and decided to go for it, turning and running deeper into the woods. The rogues shouted behind him, crashing through the woods loudly. Stiles had just a second to think about it before he latched onto a tall tree, claws coming out as he easily scaled up the trunk. He trilled quietly to soothe the ramidreju who was whining in fear around his throat. Stiles climbed as high as he could, perching easily on a limb and just breathing for a few minutes, listening.

The hunters cursed, bumbling through the leaves below. He heard a howl from the pack and he sighed in relief, leaning back against the tree trunk and petting the ramidreju’s green fur gently.

“It’s going to be okay, buddy,” Stiles murmured, coaxing the weasel from around his throat and into his lap. “That was Peter’s howl. He’ll let us know when it’s safe to come back down.”

The ramidreju head-butted his hand, accepting the pets, before gently nibbling at his fingers.

“Not food, dude,” Stiles grumbled, but he let the creature sniff and lick him curiously. He pulled a packet of sliced pears from his pocket, instantly earning the weasel’s laser attention. “This is food.”

Stiles offered a pear slice before munching on one himself. They split the bag, the weasel licking the plastic clean before curling up comfortably.

Peter’s howl echoed through the trees. Stiles glanced down to see the wolf circling the base of the tree.

“Stiles?” Chris called up shortly after.

“Coming down,” Stiles yelled before getting the ramidreju to curl around his neck once more. “Hang on, buddy,” he murmured before he started his descent.

When Stiles got to the last limb, he eyed the final ten feet before smirking deviously at Chris and letting go. The man’s eyes widened as he rushed to catch the boy.

“Seriously, Stiles?” Chris said as he held up the boy and the ramidreju.

“Got to keep you young and on your toes,” Stiles answered, grinning cheekily before kissing him quickly. “Thank you, honeybunches.”

“Don’t ever call me that again,” Chris deadpanned as Stiles stood, stretching out before petting the weasel around his neck.

“No thank you for me?” Peter asked, having shifted and holding his arms around expectantly.

“Oh of course, I’d never forget my wolfy-kins,” Stiles said, unashamedly snuggling up to his naked wolf.

The ramidreju squeaked, sniffling at Peter’s skin curiously from his perch on Stiles’ shoulders as the boy hugged the wolf.

“So what do we do with this little one?” Peter asked, reaching out to run his fingers through the weasel’s green fur.

“I kind of want to keep him,” Stiles said, looking at the weasel who was nuzzling into Peter’s hand. “He’s cute.”

“He tried to eat you,” Chris pointed out. “And who says he won’t when you shift again?”

Stiles waved him off. “Nonsense, cuppiecake; we’ve bonded now.” He smiled at the ramidreju, scratching him just under the chin. “Isn’t that right, little Rikki?”

“Don’t call me that one either,” Chris sighed.

“Ricky?” Peter asked.

“After the mongoose in Rikki-Tikki-Tavi,” Stiles explained. “I only know so many famous weasel creatures, dude.”

“You’ve already named it,” Chris deadpanned.

“Oh calm down, snugglymuffin,” Peter teased, moving to hug Chris and kissing up his throat. “Our boyfriend wants it. How can we deny him?”

Stiles giggled. “Please, daddy?” he asked, battling his eyeslashes playfully.

Chris groaned, burying his head in Peter’s neck. “Fine.”

Stiles cheered, snuggling with the ramidreju. “They love me,” he revealed to the weasel in a stage-whisper.

“We do,” Peter agreed, before both men embraced the boy and his new pet.

**Author's Note:**

> Send me a prompt on [tumblr](https://therapeutic-steter.tumblr.com/)!


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